Recessions
by AlewrPlyst
Summary: deadshadows77@hotmail is my email. Feel free to comment. :O I think I did well. :P
1. Angelic Agressor

Chapter 1: Angelic Aggressor

A leaf crunched, and a twig snapped. Alewr▓s eyes widened at the unexpected sound. He stopping his moving throughout the forest. Who was there? Surely noone was going to intrude into their forest. The Beacons▓ forest was one of the safer parts in the world. This was mostly due to the size of it, and the possibilities of getting one▓s self lost in it. He held his lantern tightly as possible in his right hand. ▒Crack!▓ His heart jumped, and then slowly drifted back down, after realizing that it was he who had made the sound this time around.

⌠It was probably just an animal.■ He failed to reassure himself as he trudged his way back to his home. His mother would be worried sick as usual, whenever he stayed out a measly two hours past curfew. She did have her reasons though. The Seraphs were not kindly, and weren▓t know to have been very lenient towards the original inhabitants of the forest. Perhaps it was the tales of their cruel punishments to those caught disobeying their divine rules that made him so paranoid to walk through the forest so late and alone. With the hood of his nearly silken cloak up, he saw the village in the distance. The lack of lights sickened him. Not because his sight was horrid and he couldn▓t see well. He could see well in the dark, the dense forest having blocked out most of the sun from above since he was a child. A simple look under the cloak would show that he had completed one of the more advanced educations in the fighting style of the Beacons: Hollisch Esprit Frecce. A white porcelain mask, with a simple with a religious symbol similar to a caduceus was laid upon it▓s forehead, that was tied with a satin ribbon that was hidden from view told anyone this.

The doors to his lantern he held were closed to keep from any unwanted light escaping, showing his location to anyone. It was elegantly carved from the most mysterious metal, which was sturdy as a large boulder, yet was white as bone. A clover-shaped arch was above each of the doors to the lantern, and a handle that was squeakless when he moved it. A seemingly warm temperature and feeling of never ending hopelessness seemed to radiate from the lantern. Alewr was now less than fifty feet from the town, and hid behind the trunk of a tree, contemplating on how to get back in without being seen by the Serpahian sentries.

⌠Reisende Si-⌠ He began to call upon on of the souls that were captured in the lantern he held when his mask was pulled off with force. At first, noone was seen and the taste of blood came to his mouth, followed be the late arrival of pain, as a hand clutched it shut, preventing any spiritual aid. Helpless in the art of hand to hand combat, he was quickly overcome in any struggling against the attacking Seraph. He watched helplessly as the Seraph released the spirits he had spent years collecting into the dark night. Eventually, their faint colors were no longer visible.

The Seraph came into view more correctly, and Alewr was able to see the face which betrayed the man▓s venomous actions. His hair was blonde, and was kept relatively short. Facial hair was not upon him, and it would have most probably destroyed the overall holy effect. The whitest cloth he had seen was on him like an elegant robe with wide sleeves. It was tied with a tasseled rope just above his abdomen. He was nothing short of a Seraph. Alewr had heard stories as a child about how they were the self-proclaimed warriors of God. This had always confused him until adolescence, as he was raised to worship many gods. The relationship between the two species of humanoids was on much better terms when he was young however. It had been nearly two years since his fourteenth birthday, and the year he had completed his education. He was going to be considered a man in a few months actually. The Seraph spoke, his voice perhaps even more thrilling than his appearance.

⌠NИha.■ The Seraph cursed his unworthy existence in a tongue that Alewr didn▓t know. Still, he felt the strange feeling that he knew what it meant. A small laugh, followed with ▒Cohbien?▓ was released by the angelic figure. He knew that phrase, as it was in his own tongue. He was asking Alewr if he was sleepy. The Seraph looked at him and knew that the Beacon understood well what was happening. A perfect grin, and then his large hand was placed flat against Alewr▓s stomach before he whispered a long chant of the unknown language from before. At first, nothing had occurred. But then its effect was sickeningly felt. A slowly increasing pain in his abdomen grew until it was comparable to being struck repeatedly. He felt like throwing up, and the pain continued to concentrate. Eventually the Beacon was no longer able to hold onto consciousness any longer, and slipped into it regrettably. 


	2. Stained Palms

Chapter 2: Stained Palms

Wings beat rapidly. Six of them in total. The Seraph, Behersk, ascended into the air and didn't look below. He knew that if he did, all he would see was flames, and ashes. Having accomplished his goal of setting one of the larger Beacon villages alight pleasured him in an almost insane way. Such excitement he gained from destroying the demonic peasants and their home. A small laugh, and he combed his golden hair with his hands. He stopped, and frowned staring at them. They were stained with the blood from those who had tried to stop him. Such futile attempts were they, as he knew their weaknesses, and used them against them without regret. Hundreds of corpses would surely be buried that day. Should any of the residents had lived. He doubted this. Taking a sharp turn towards the east, he avoided the trunks of the ancient trees that he flew through. He had done his mission well. The group of Beacons living in the town were being rebellious. They just simply refused to accept their lordship as the most supreme and only deity of the earth. How silly they were to believe in such a numerous amount of gods to obey.

His flawlessly perfect face seemed to light up momentarily. He had forgotten who had assigned him the task to eliminate the ruthless Beacons in the first place. Of course, it was none other than the General of the Seraphian Corps, Letyr. How miraculous was the man. He seemed to emanate purity and perfection. Oh, woe was Behersk. How much he would give to be of such wonder. Just to be in the presence of the powerful Seraph would drive any normal being insane. Seraphs were resilient to this effect however and were only awed by such power. Behersk, on the other hand, was done glorifying the man from afar. He was to anything possible in his power to get closer. He needed to be nearer to his presence like the inhabitants of the earth needed air and water. Once he was close enough to touch him, it would be then. Then he would slay the great General. Then that he would take upon such a holy and sacred position. He would be the great revolutionary war general to finally give the Beacons one ultimatum to worshiping the divine god of the Seraphs. Slavery. It would be a fit punishment. The smaller pair of wings that laid on each side of Behersk▓s face were relaxed, but the other two were busy at work. The two on his back pumped air below him in a steady pace that generally slowed with the last. The last pair upon each of his sandaled feet beat just alike the other, and he began to descend. Before long, he touched the forest ground and took a break near a large. The smell of smoke hung in the air accompanied with the intoxicating aroma of depression and blood. This naturally thrilled him, and he had to focus his attention away from the scent as much as possible. He knew that if he couldn▓t control himself, the trees would soon be the start of a forest fire. A swig of a highly alcoholic liquid from the flask upon his hip, he walked through the thick underbrush. The camp was set up only a few hundred yards from his current position. The minutes passed by much quickly than he thought, and he muttered a phrase of praise to himself for his previous acts of restrain.

Large white columns of fine marble were on either side of him, perhaps ten or so metres. In between them laid granite steps leading to a large white door with a crucifix-shaped door knocker. Inside the door sat the most powerful beings in the Seraphian Corps. Behersk▓s blue eyes were wide, and he paced in front of the large door. The whole building looked extremely odd in the middle of the forest. It had been brought here by means of great magic. A large group of Seraphs had been used to perform this, and even a sacrifice was necessary. Luckily there was a large amount of prisoners that were to be used, and just a life of an elderly Beacon was nothing much to lose. She would not have done well as a slave either. She had no fighting abilities. She was disposable. The building resembled a large cathedral. At the very top was a white cross that flashed with a bright white light.

Finally, Behersk touched the door-knocker and it moved with its own motive, creating a large bell toll. It did indeed sovereign him of the capitol of Reinigen, or the home country of the Seraphs, which was PolМt. This identification was mostly called upon because of the enormously large church. The church contains an ancient bell in which a group of Seraphs must pull the sturdy cord belonging to it every twelve hours. While in thought, the doors opened by themselves, only aided with the magic of the beings inside the room. Seraphs were not as magically powerful as the Beacons, but in groups they posed a national threat, which was being experienced. He stepped foot into the building, and the doors closed behind him, all attentive eyes on him. Some were caring and trusted, while the rest were treacherous and doubtful. 


	3. The Seraphian Corps

Chapter 3: The Seraphian Corps

Behersk walked into the enormous room. It greatly resembled a court room, and as he walked his footsteps echoed loudly. The ceiling above him was high, and it would have taken some time to get there, even if he flew. The room seemed very open to the Seraph. It was completely empty, save a single chair that sat in front of a group of throne-like seats with counters in front of them. The sound of each step closer he got to them, the most powerful figures in the history of Seraphs, did little to calm his anxiety, and his fingers twitched wildly on the arms of the wooden chair once he had been seated. The back of the chair he sat in told the story of the creation of Seraphs, the eternal servants of their God. The carving made his back feel uncomfortable, and even more pressure was felt by Behersk.

On the elevated seats sat eleven youthful men. Ten of them were Majors, which were split into two equal groups on either side of the General of the Seraphian Corps. He, out of the whole group, was elevated to a much higher level than the others. Behersk looked up to him, and the General gave him an indifferent look and sat there studying him. Finally, the General stood, and the commanders followed his actions. This was the first time Behersk had seen the general in person, and Behersk was finding it hard to keep his attention on anyone else. How magnificent the General was. How praised. How loved. How perfect. How Pure. Behersk clutched the arms of the chair tightly. Other than this, he showed no sign of any instability. Yet how he longed to earn the respect of the General. How he longed to be right next to him. To forever serve him and be in his presence. Together they could spread their religion worldwide. None could stand up to them. They would lead the world. Of course, then he would surpass him. He would kill of the General, and show his dominance over him. Those back home would welcome him for killing of a General unfit to lead the nations army. Much too forgiving was he. A wonderful leader he was though. So very wonderful. His death wouldn't be in vain. No. Behersk wouldn't allow it. The funeral would be glorious. Amazingly glorious. Flowers would be everywhere, and the whole population of Seraphs would doubtlessly be in attendance.

General Visten's grand appearance didn't slow Behersk's obsession with him either. His wings were the most amazing thing he had ever seen. Only second to his facial features. The six wings on the Seraph were of golden color, unlike Behersk's own brown wings, and shown with brilliance in the light of the generously placed torches. Even the commanders silver wings were rubbish compared to Vistens. The General seemed to have nothing against showing his awesome appearance off, and opened them as wide as possible. It may have been known to him that the closest Commanders got a face full of wing. Then he spoke, and his voice seemed to tease Behersk's hunger for his presence and power.

"Sergeant Behersk, you have done much to please us...all. Your success on your last mission was excellent. To be absolutely truthful, we were very much doubting your ability to dispose of such a large amount of Beacons! If only they would realize their ignorance, and stop their silly and barbaric religion. Such fools they are. Still, we Seraphs have been charged with a mission. That mission is to purify these lands of all tainted beings. The Beacons are our prime concern, as their spirituality has been called to be the most filthy of all of the wordly creatures by our priestess. Despite our efforts to have them see our views, nay, His views, they resist. By resisting our efforts, the are resisting upmost purity and God himself. They must be stopped at all costs. If they are not, I do fear that they will seek Him out. We cannot afford to lose his sovereignty in this world. And without his awesomeness, the would fall into ruin. The prophecy of His downfall and the pollution of the world must not become reality. We have to protect his greatness. That is the reason for the cruel acts that we assigned you to fulfill. Upon your success, we offer you our blessings of good health. Also, it has been ultimately decided to promote you to the position of a second lieutenant immediately. I trust you know what to do for you promotion to take place. And before I forget, I▓m sure that by now the word of our new experimentations have reached even you. I want you to preform the new actions that come along with it. I▓m looking for someone with your talents.■

The General spoke with a calm voice that reeked of tiresome command giving and lack of sleep. Behersk nodded to him, and then bowed after thanking him as much as possible without frightening them. Then, he stepped into a large clear room that was cylindrical in shape. Then, he removed his shirt, as was necessary, and sat on the equally as clear chair inside the room. Unlike the wooden chair, it was simple in design. Through the back of the chair, on Behersk▓s back, was an insignia of a large cross with ivy wrapped around it. When he looked up, the General and the other ten Majors were surrounding him, on the outside of the room. He had been promoted before, of course, but never with the general present, and Behersk couldn▓t help but to think that it would make all of the difference this time around. He closed his eyes. Slowly they began to speak in a very elaborate spell, full of sounds only of their ancient tongue. It must have been one of the most secretive of the earliest forms, however, because he barely recognized any words they spoke. He felt his skin warm up at a growing pace. Gold light spontaneously appeared in the air around him until all he could see when he opened his eyes was golden nothingness.

Then began the real effects of the transformation. The warm glowing feeling he had been previously experience grew hotter. So very much hotter. Until it was no longer warm, but burning. His skin felt like it was boiling away. He didn▓t doubt that if he hadn▓t gone through such intense and painful training in order to get into the army in the first place, he would have died from the pain. He knew that the Generals presence and power was only making the pain worse, but he didn▓t care. He refused to show weakness in front of the man. His back felt like it was being ripped to ribbons with a hot knife, but he knew that this was not what was really happening. The real occurrence was that the insignia on his back was being changed to match his rank. Each promotion it changed. Each rank had a different insignia. The fact that he was being promoted such a great distance had also increased this pain. Finally, the golden light fell to the floor and disappeared, and the chanted ended. The promotion was complete. 


End file.
